


In Sickness And In Health

by emocezi



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emocezi/pseuds/emocezi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cougar woke up with the sniffles, and an expression that was closer to a pout then a scowl. Jensen was the first one to abandon ship, saying something about how his mouse pad needed more RAM and running out of the house full tilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness And In Health

Cougar woke up with the sniffles, and an expression that was closer to a pout then a scowl. Jensen was the first one to abandon ship, saying something about how his mouse pad needed more RAM and running out of the house full tilt.

Pooch and Clay were the next ones to leave, neither giving an excuse of why they needed to be out of the house for the next twelve hours. They left Roque, who was sleeping on the couch, to deal with Cougar.

It might seem cruel to an outsider to leave a sick person in his own miserable company, but Cougar sick, was a whole new animal. He whined, clinging to to whom ever was available and demanded they move heaven and earth to make him more comfortable. It was a trait left over from being the only male child in the midst of six girls.

\--

Roque awoke to find Cougar glaring at the broken television, sniffling miserably and huddling under a blanket. He sighed, rubbed his hands over his face, and got up to boil a pot of water for tea. If Cougar had something in his hands, he’d be less likely to demand manly cuddles from whom ever was left to tend him.

The tea worked for an hour.

Roque was reading a chapter of the graphic novel Jensen had left lying on the coffee table when Cougar plopped onto the couch beside him with a pout and a blanket. Roque flipped the page and lifted his arm without a word, letting Cougar get comfortable.

He was already planning his revenge on Jensen and Pooch when the whining started. Cougar kicked off the blanket, his face screwed up in a serious pout. His skin carried a sheen of sweat from the fever that was starting to brew, his body starting to combat the virus he’d picked up somewhere on the streets of Buffalo, NY.

“I’m hot.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Roque. I’m hungry.”

“So make yourself soup.”

“I don’t want to. You make it. I’m sick.”

“Cougs, it may have escaped your notice, but I am not your momma.”

The look on Cougar’s face was a combination of mutiny and misery. It wasn’t an expression Cougar wore often, and the last time he’d looked that way was after he’d been stabbed in the shoulder and was being forced to recuperate in the local hospital for a week.

Roque remembered how ornery the sniper had gotten, and how he’d spewed misery and blame for his condition on whom ever was in the room at the time. It hadn’t been an experience Roque would care to revisit, and he bit back a sigh, pushing himself to his feet and heading into the kitchen. Cougar a few feet behind him, now clutching the blanket around his shoulders and complaining about being cold.

\--

Jensen shared a look with Pooch and cracked open the door of the safe house. Clay was hiding behind them like the cowardly coward he was, ready to sacrifice his men and make a break for it at the first sound of Cougar’s misery. The house was silent save for the soft rumble of Roque’s voice, reading something aloud.

If Roque was reading it meant Cougar was most likely asleep, and the coast was clear for a few hours. Pooch pushed open the door fully and stepped inside, wincing at the full-on glare Roque sent his way. He held up the loaded meatball sub he’d picked up as a piece offering.

Jensen peered over Pooch’s shoulder, setting the white bag of cold medication he’d picked up at the pharmacy on the couch next to Cougar and scurrying to his room. Experience had taught him that no matter who was available, if Cougar caught sight of him while feeling ill, Jensen would be stuck with him for the next three days. It had nothing to do with Jensen, and everything to do with the fact that Jensen was the only Loser who knew the Spanish lullabies Cougar’s mother had sung to him when he was a child. Luckily, no one else had caught onto that fact yet, or he wouldn’t have made it out of the house that morning.

Pooch handed the sub to Roque and left, abandoning Clay to his 2ic’s wrath and judgemental stare. There wasn’t a lot Roque could do for revenge on the Colonel, but he’d honed his glare to the point where it could be physically felt as a subtle itch of condemnation between one’s shoulder blades.

Clay didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic, instead he prowled into the kitchen, pretending like he couldn’t feel Roque’s ire digging into his skin. The soft sound of dishes being stacked while the sink filled up with hot water mollified Roque a little, but even the thought of Clay doing housework couldn’t fully erase the annoyance of being a baby sitter for seven hours.

Roque paused in his reading, glancing down at Cougar who wore a pout, even in his sleep. The Lieutenant wondered briefly if he could chance escaping and leaving Cougar to latch onto the next person he found, especially if it was Clay. Instead the sniper shifted in his sleep and Roque sighed, adjusting the quilt over Cougar’s shoulders and picking up his reading where he’d left off in the middle of a sentance.

Revenge was going to be sweet.

XxX XxX

 **A/N:** The revenge Roque takes is as follows:

Pooch and Jensen end up doing 25 mile run(uphill most of the way)in full gear with their packs full of rocks. And no one cockblocks Clay even though the woman he's hitting on _clearly_ has at least three STI's.


End file.
